Nothing Ever Dies
by azure-tears
Summary: [GrimxMandy] Mandy might have grown up a bit, she still has her eye on the prize.


Author's Note: Another foray into an area unfamiliar to me as far as fanfiction goes- The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. But my dear online best friend is obsessed with a certain pairing in that show and I decided I might as well try my hand at one-shot for them. If this is humdrum, I apologize. Bit hard to write this in the first place, much less come up with something highly original.

The Grim Adventures belongs to, uh, whoever owns it. Yes.

Nothing Ever Dies

Mandy didn't believe in heroes or the steel clad, armor wearing knights that pranced around on lily white horses while reciting pretty poetry and smiling insincerely. Nor did she think unicorns were cute, fairies fanciful, or any number of the delusions that other girls tripped over themselves to believe. While _they_ blossomed into good natured young adults, she was as jaded, cynical, and harsh as when she was eight, but with one difference. Her dreams had grown and, though she'd never outwardly admit it, become attached to the one creature other people fled- the Grim Reaper.

If asked, she claimed she enjoyed abusing him in all the right ways. Never did she consider whether she cared for him or not- she cared for no one but herself. Billy, for example, was a pawn, and his slightly smarter companion, Irwin, a sap. She only looked toward them when Grim dissatisfied her and she needed another in her schemes. And, as she aged, Grim managed to trump them nearly every time. Humans, she'd decided long ago, were only useful when they contributed something to her well-being and were, therefore, disposable. Her parents had overheard her saying this on the phone to Billy (who naturally didn't understand a word of it) and fled, afraid she'd run after them with a blowtorch upon her eighteenth birthday.

She was a little shocked when she first discovered they feared her, but then she eventually worked her way into accepting it. Besides, the more they dreaded her, the easier she could work them around to her way of thinking. In this world, there existed two types of people- pawns and rivals. And she had the trump card.

* * *

Eighteen years old, Mandy reclined on the couch and watched Grim fumble to assemble her baggage and pack it in the car. His scythe leaned against the nearby wall; she'd strict orders not to touch it. Its metal sheen shone in the artificial lights and she imagined its magical energy enveloping her. The innumerable volumes of power spilling out into her hands; she could choose whether someone lived or died with a touch. She could rip a hole into another dimension, alter her physical state, or rip someone's soul out of their still breathing body. How many times had she fantasized about wielding it and yet, found herself thwarted before she accomplished her means? 

The only reason Grim wasn't using it to maneuver and neatly array her belongings was because she'd forbidden it. She enjoyed his exertion, the beads of sweat that formed on the lich's forehead, and the occasional Jamaican accent flavored curse when he dropped something or a body part fell off. Permitting herself a smirk, she idly swayed her foot in the air and fought a snicker when her parents deliberately took a roundabout route to avoid crossing paths with the Grim Reaper. Despite whatever she'd told them about him, they thought going near him spelled their deaths. They couldn't understand how their daughter came to be so close to him and, after numerous unsuccessful attempts to convince her to acquire a more normal accomplice; they merely hung their heads and muttered about a pack of wolves. She'd glared at their backs, much like she was doing now.

Billy sauntered into her house uninvited and she scowled again. Just because they'd been 'friends' for years didn't mean she actually liked him. In addition to fantasizing about having Grim's power, she'd also pictured killing Billy in various, excruciating ways. This was the last time he'd be able to enter her domicile uninvited, however- Mandy was moving out and off to college. Billy, who barely scrapped passing grades out of high school, was trying teachers' patience and wasting money by applying to the local community college. It wasn't that good students didn't go to community, but she also knew the flunkies, such as him, populated Endsville Community College and outnumbered anyone who couldn't afford regular school ten to one. People were like ants, she reflected, scurrying with little purpose and complying with the queen because their brains were unable to process anything else. If the queen told them to commit mass suicide, they'd do it. How she'd love that power, to tell anyone anything and have them obey her without question.

"What are we gonna do about Grim?" he squeaked, eyes watering pitifully. He sat on the edge of the couch by her feet and, naturally, she kicked him off. Unfortunately, this didn't derail his train of thought. Weeping like a pathetic fool, he sobbed a good ten minutes while Grim cautiously carried her stuff and Mandy waited until he finished. He did, glancing at her and, as if on cue, his eyes filled again. What on earth could it be now?

"You're _leaving _me," he protested plaintively, suddenly embracing her. Bile rose in her throat and she thought she might be nauseous. Grim, returning from depositing another load, stopped and stared at the two. Anger swiftly replaced surprise and she shoved Billy off to bark an order at the lich. Her furious glare could have wilted flowers.

"What have I told you about touching me?" she snapped at the redheaded boy and, to Grim, she added, "What are _you _staring at?"

"You're leaving _and _taking Grim," Billy whined, not to be deterred. "It's not _fair_. I want him!"

She abstained from rolling her eyes, but retrieved a folded, glowing parchment from her jeans' hip pocket. Her ensemble hadn't changed much since her childhood- now she wore a pink top with a flower, a deliberate misconception and allowing people to put their guards down so she could stomp all over them. Instead of a dress, however, she wore pants, but a skirt on occasion. Nonetheless, her aura hadn't changed, even if her style had slightly. No one but a pure idiot (such as Billy) would dare contest her.

"You remember what the Underworld courts said when you misused his power last time and resulted in all the previous deaths returning with their souls and an axe to grind against Grim," Mandy retorted. "They knew the day would happen when we'd separate and decided, for the sake of renewed torture and suffering, to hand him over to _me_."

She smirked at the recollection and, an image of her as the Queen of the Underworld pushed forth. A dream of hers, yes, and one reappearing in her sleeping moments. Yet these dreams possessed the verisimilitude of reality and, when she awoke, she had an uncanny sense these dreams were not mere fabrications of her unconscious mind. Queen of the Underworld had a certain ring to it and a definite appeal, but she'd have to be dead first and she planned to do a great deal before it was her time. Besides, why should she let Grim reap her anyway? She owned him. She would defy Death.

The courts hadn't been terribly keen on giving him to her, but she eventually wormed her way into their hearts, or, rather, their deepest secrets. Emasculated, humiliated, and the brunt of every Underworld joke, Grim hadn't any say in the matter, which was perfectly fine with her. She didn't care what people said about her, so why should it matter what they said about her servant? He was her bitch and that was all there was to it. Yes, so he'd lost respect, acclaim, and no one trembled in their doorway to await their death. She covered that part pretty well, anyway. She invoked more apprehension than the Reaper himself.

"But…" Billy sputtered, lip trembling, "Mandy!"

He flung himself at her again and she shoved violently only to be smacked soundly on the lips. The sudden action took her completely off guard and she vomited a little inside her mouth. Deeply disgusted, ignoring Grim's perplexed expression (she'd have thought he would have laughed, not stared like he'd never seen her before), she darted off to the bathroom to clean her mouth out and retch. Billy kissing her…what a horrible, horrible thought, much less occurrence. The door slammed and its lock clicked, echoing in the now silence.

"Mandy, I love you!" Billy cried and Grim, who had been carrying two duffel bangs, one in each skeletal hand, dropped them abruptly. He stared at him too, but managed to recover long enough to snap at him.

"What da hell is wrong with you, boy?" he snapped and Billy, sobbing and oozing snot, whirled on him. A mess, he threw himself at his torso in the bizarre hope Death would comfort him. He didn't. He would have blinked if he had eyes and, then, shoved him off much like Mandy had.

"I…I thought that…that…if I did that, she wouldn't leave," he moaned, laying on the floor and burying his nose in Grim's robes. Grim yanked them away before he soiled them beyond repair.

"Did the thought ever occur to you-" Grim started, but Mandy, radiating fury, ripped open the bathroom door, strode out regally, and, scarcely touching Billy, picked him up by the collar to fling him into the couch. She'd tell her parents to have it burned later.

"That I don't like you, Billy? I never liked you. I warned you about touching me- what gave you the right to even _think _that? You're nothing to me. Worthless, like everyone else around here. I don't want your love. I never did. I don't need anyone. Now, come, Grim. I have people to dominate."

Snatching Grim's hand and squeezing it until the bones creaked, she directed him out of her house. After retrieving the last of her luggage, she slammed the door in Billy's face. This was the last time she saw him.

* * *

She'd never admit it to herself, much less to another. Grim was like a security blanket, always there when she needed him, regardless of his own preferences. He obeyed her unquestioningly now, but she often saw him glancing at his scythe, but whether it was longingly or not, she couldn't tell. And, another thing she'd never admit- Grim was the closest thing to a friend she had. She confided in him when necessity dictated and, though she never explained why, occasionally had him share a bed with her if only for the cold he provided. Mandy, after all, had never liked the warmth. It always rang with falseness and stupidity, like Billy. Death was absolute and not prone to the fallacies of life.

She was twenty-five now, living on her own (unless you counted Grim, which she rarely did) and renting an apartment. Yet whenever she turned, she sensed sands tumbling into an hourglass and the haunting ticking of the clock. Death, who had always been by her side, was counting her hours carefully.

* * *

She awoke one morning to heat, fire, and brimstone. At first, she believed herself to still be sleeping and, smirking, she twirled, expecting to see her minions beckoning. A sharp rap of a wooden scythe on the rocks brought her attention back and she saw a shadowed figure approach. Smirking, she called out to him and he winced, dreading this but anticipating it at the same time. She was surprised to discover the slight smile on his skull.

When had he last smiled? Could she recall? Usually, his expressions were hewn into her head so she could dissect them and determine how best to ruin his happiness. Of course, if that happiness was from someone else's misery, it became her pleasure as well. Yet something about his smile told her this nothing to derive satisfaction.

"Well, after da life ya led, where did ya expect ta go?" he said. For the most part, humans and other creatures were placed wherever their actions dictated, but Billy had been encased in a block of ice in the ninth level of Hell. Normally reserved for traitors, everyone in the other levels of Hell and Heaven denounced and castigated him, finally decreeing he should be treated like a traitor instead of the moron he was.

Yes, he'd died before her, but that was only to be expected. After all, he'd tried to lick an electrical socket. It was only a matter of time before he committed a lethal action and he had, drinking himself to death like other young men. Grim had frowned, wishing he'd at least found a creative way to stupidly kill himself.

She scoffed, mentally disputing not the place, but her mode. Dying in her sleep? Honestly, was that the best he could come up with? There'd been a car accident, one where she'd been positive the guy had been swerving to hit her, and, mind numbing pain. She'd been in the hospital for weeks, closed her eyes last night…and wound up here. It made sense, yes, but she still disliked it. At least, with a quick glance at her body, it hadn't sustained any harm here.

But why had he healed her? Why do anything for her unless he expected something in return? Immediately suspicious, she narrowed her eyes and glared hotly at him. He cringed, but stayed firm. The change in disposition took her aback, more so than her death or anything else.

Had the tables shifted? Who wielded the power now? Yes, he had the scythe, but when had that ever been important? When had his status rivaled hers? Just because he was Death meant nothing at all.

Yet a sinking suspicion wormed its way into her stomach and threatened to dispel her normally impenetrable nature. Something was off.

"What do you want?" she snapped, bristling. "I order you to leave me alone."

He snickered maliciously and waved his scythe around to indicate their surroundings. The deal, she'd always assumed would last her unto infinity, had expired and he was no longer hers to command and deal with as she saw fit. The notion unnerved her that she was no longer the mistress of her domain or could exercise power over anything, much less the Grim Reaper.

But, in her typical fashion, she refused to accept it as law. She glared, expecting him to cower before her. He did nothing of the sort. Instead, he offered her a deal. A plea bargain, if you will.

"Your hand in marriage," he said simply after allowing himself a few minutes to gloat. "Together, we can rule dis place."

She mulled it over, though it didn't take her terribly long. Existing as a peon, running from the flames, carrying a weight on her back, or whatever other fates lay in store for her hardly captivated her. She'd always known she wasn't destined for them, especially in light of this. Nonetheless, her shrewd nature refused to let her compromise her stance, regardless of whether she'd made up her mind or not.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked coldly, scrutinizing the souls floating by in agony. Their shrieks, sobs, and wails were like music to her ears and she was strongly reminded of Billy the day she left for college. She wondered if he'd drunk himself to death and then decided it didn't matter. Anyone stupid enough to imbibe a lethal amount of alcohol deserved their fate, regardless of why he did it.

"Ya want power, don't'cha? And with you by my side, people will fear Death again."

She longed to laugh and throw his proposition back in his face. Of course, he'd lost face being the puppet to a pair of children, particularly her. No one respected him anymore; they treated him like their favorite cartoon character. It chagrined him and, were she still alive and the situation different, she would have let him be antagonized. If he was stupid enough to be won in a card game, then he, like Billy, deserved his fate.

Yet the fact remained- she was dead and the only way to gain any power now was to align herself with the most powerful creature in the Underworld. And, when the time came, perhaps he'd give her enough to destroy him. Yes, she could wait. A taste of what he enjoyed would be sufficient until then. She remembered her childhood and desiring, above everything else, to wield the scythe. Press it against someone's throat and watch their life pool on the blade. She felt lightheaded.

"And if I refuse?" she replied smoothly. A game, a show to maintain her pride and remind him who had dominated whom. Her eyes sparkled in maniacal intelligence.

"Then I will make your afterlife as miserable as you've made my last eighteen years."

She doubted it, but his answer hadn't mattered. That much power, regardless of if she had to share it momentarily, was too good to pass up. Smirking, offering her hand, she murmured the words that would turn the Underworld on its head, "Queen me."

* * *


End file.
